


The Shrine

by cuddlepuss



Category: 10 Things I Hate About You (1999)
Genre: Drunkenness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 05:00:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlepuss/pseuds/cuddlepuss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when PJ gets drunk at Chris's one night? What's Chris's big secret?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shrine

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an odd conversation with a friend, this piece took my imagination on a drinking trip I'd never imagined before.

I raise bleary eyes from the almost empty glass in my hand, and reach for the closest of the two Malibu bottles on the table, sending them both crashing to the floor to shatter, opals of milky white glass bouncing and dancing as they scatter across the tiles as the pungent aroma of coconut alcohol fills the air. For some reason, I find this hysterically funny in my drink befuddled mind, and I start to laugh, deep and loud, before, with the realization that there’s no more to drink, my laughter turns to tears.

The vapours smell almost as good as the drink tastes, and I get down to mimic a cat and lap it up. Thank god Chris isn’t drunk, as he stops me before I can hurt myself on the glass. With a resentful moan, I leave him there to clear the mess and head for the living room. Turning out cupboards, I’m certain he’s a stash of booze to quench my still there thirst. By the time he joins me from the kitchen, I’ve totaled the living room, and am making a bee line for his bed room. I suddenly realize, Chris has never let me into his bedroom before, now curiosity, as well as the need for a drink, has me in it’s grasp. Chris tries to stop me, but my drunken determination is to great for his desire to not hurt me.

Even drunk, I can appreciate the unique qualities of Chris that the room, that shouted out his personality and style. But something else was shouting out too, something that, in my drink sodden haze I couldn’t make sense of. One wall, almost entirely, was covered with pictures. Some of one person, some of two, or of four, but mostly just the one. All neatly dated and labelled with the time and place of it’s taking. Posters, stills, photos, even birthday and Christmas cards received, were stuck carefully on the wall. It resembled a fucking shrine. Puzzled, and too drunk to work it out, I slump to the bed in a heap, and pass out.

The next thing I’m aware of, is bright, brilliant sunlight, streaming into an unfamiliar room, my head’s splitting, but I’m nestled, safe and warm, into a very familiar chest, it’s unique scent as known to me as my own. Squinting my eyes against the bright light, I gaze around the room, my jaw dropping when I take in one, particular wall. Chestnut curls sticking out with gay abandon from atop a grinning face, bright, mirth filled eyes gleaming knowingly. The same image, multiplied dozens of times, in many poses, expressions varied, but all with the same gleam of secret knowledge in the eyes. This was me!

The chest beneath me started to squirm as it’s owner becomes aware of the direction of my gaze. I look down at Chris, he’s adorably tousled from sleep, and amazingly embarrassed about my seeing his wall. Fuck but he looks sexy as hell like it too. ”Erm, so, Chris, is there anything you want to tell me? Like why my mug takes up almost all of one wall of your bedroom?” With a muttered ”Fuck” Chris is out of bed and across the room to his bathroom like a scared rabbit, with me the fox hot on his heels. I push the door open just as he reaches for the lock.

Stepping bravely up to him, I said with a conviction I was far from feeling “You know, Chris, it’s alright. Whatever it is you’re feeling, we’ll sort it out, just like we always do. I like you too, remind me to show you my photo album when we’re at my place next.” Then, with a deep breath, and a gentle hold on his face, I pressed my lips slowly, lovingly to his. This was our first none public ‘kiss’, but I was hoping like hell that it wasn’t our last. Finally taking courage from our kiss, Chris, wrapping his arms around my waist, murmured ”I love you Peej, really I do.” before he kissed me back.


End file.
